Poser
by secretwriter18
Summary: After a certain amount of heart break, shouldn't the universe be obligated to balance things out? One girl thinks so and she's about to learn that reality is better than dreams, if she can learn to let go of the past.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:**

**So, this story has a bit of a personal story behind it. Recently, a very dear and very close friend of mine went through the horrifying and painful experience of finding out that she was catfished by someone pretending to be Niall Horan. The person who catfished her is, in my opinion, soulless and a piece of scum but, that aside, this story that I'm posting helped ease the hurt she was feeling and she persuaded me to post it on here.**

**I love you babe. You are worth so much more than you know-and this is for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own one direction. Or anything you recognize. I just have one of the most amazing friends ever.**

**Basically, don't own, don't sue.**

(Niall's Pov)

When he was younger, much younger than he is now, he had always thought that a walk to he park could solve everything; that even the most miserable of days could be brightened by his mum telling him to get his coat because they were going for a walk.

For a while, it did make things better. He got to be outside and get fresh air and his mother got to get out of the house and have a few minutes of peace and quiet...well, as much quiet as you could get in a park with a bunch of screaming kids running around like wild animals let loose from their cages in a zoo. And really, that was all the park had been to him-a chance to see other kids and maybe kick around a ball, because when you're seven you don't think about things beyond the surface. Like how every time they would go out to the park it would be on a Sunday, the only day off his father had all week. And he didn't see how his mother would turn and frown when he said he wanted to grow up to be just like his dad one day. He didn't see the growing tension or the discontentment in his mother's icy blue eyes. He didn't see it because in his world all that mattered was football, food, and walks to the park in Sunday with his mother so he could play with his friends.

When he turned eight, disillusionment was something he became painfully familiar with. Discontentment festered into resentfulness and his parents began to fight. For five long months they fought; it seems like an endless battle to him and even his toy soldiers, who had battled dragons and bears, had never been as mean as his parents were to each other. And then he day came where his mother raised a flag of surrender and said she wanted out, that she couldn't take living like she did anymore and she wanted to separate from his father. He should have been sad, should have cried; it worried both of his parents when he didn't. But honestly, how could they expect him to cry when he was just relieved that the fighting was over?

His life had changed drastically after that and he couldn't specifically recall when he decided to move in with his dad or how that led to his parents dragging him to be on the X Factor but. Not the point. He'd had a normal life, sort of and he had had the chance to live his life relatively free of major heart break and with a good team of people to support whatever he chose to do. It was only recently that he realized just how luck he was in that respect. He'd been dealt a good stack of cards in the game of life but didn't really realize until it was written in black and white, spelled out clearly for him to read while his heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

And for a foolish second he hoped that if he closed his eyes and opened them again that he would be seven years old and walking to the park with his mother, a black and white ball rolling in front of his feet.

But life didn't work like that, he mused, and reached into his packet to pull out the badly folded envelope that had shifted his world into a completely different focus. It was harder than he thought to avoid the four gazes that sat around him; they had been waiting for him to talk for about ten minutes, had given him space but now even the calmest one seemed to be getting irritated with him. He had called them over after not being able to sleep for a week-but as soon as they had settled on his couch, he had been at a loss for words. How did you explain something like this to your four best mates? How did you tell them that you had been losing sleep and not eating over something you didn't even do?

Worrying his lower lip, he looked at the messy scrawl in the front of he envelope, the address deceitfully simple and hiding the troubling words inside. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and began to explain what he thought was one of the most bizarre things he had ever heard of. "You know, I never thought there would be a point in my life where I wouldn't be physically ill and still not want to eat. But I can't... I can't stop thinking about this letter, about what happened to her enough to be able to sleep or eat and I just..." Lost for words again, he stood. He paced he floor and ran his free hand through the bottle blonde hair he'd had for years and was startled out of his thoughts by a hand enclosing his wrist. Louis looked up at him, blue eyes over bright with concern and for a brief second he was grateful that Louis knew when to draw the line and be serious.

"Use your words, babe. We're not here to judge you. Just tell us what happened, yeah?"

Louis dragged him to the couch, all but folding himself around the taller Irish boy and he sank into the embrace gladly, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days catch up to him. Without hesitation in the embrace if someone he loved, he told what had happened. "She's one of our older fans-and she's had a really rough life. A really tough time all around; she loves us, though, and she's had this one twitter account for years. One day she meets this person called Alexis online and starts to become friends with her. After about three months of talking to her, the person in the other account tells her that they have to come clean- that they're me and they don't wanna hide anymore. They tricked her, spent six months pretending to be me in relationship with her. She found it the truth when things started to not add up and she did her homework. Said she didn't want to look too far into it in the beginning. She just wanted to believe that something like that could happen to her, that she would meet me and I would fall in love with her despite everything that happened to her. She just wanted something good to happen."

He closed his eyes, his heart aching at the thought of someone being that cruel to someone so innocent, so innately good. He let out a harsh exhale, squeezing his eyes tighter as he felt slim fingers run through his faux blonde hair. "She was devastated but she said she didn't want anyone else to have to suffer like she did so she got the account suspended and wrote me a letter to tell me about it." The silence that stretched on after his mini speech would have been unbearable, had he not known the four young men like he did.

Finally, Liam spoke and Niall could picture his heartbroken puppy face look he was sporting without even opening his eyes to see it. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" Hmm. Not the response he had expected but he could work with it (And he might have been more than a little proud that Liam hadn't immediately flipped his lid like he would have when he was on the X factor. They'd get him to do a prank on his own one day, he could feel it).

A sheepish smile curved the corners of his mouth and he said quietly, "Would meeting her be such a bad idea?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Niall's Pov)

Despite Liam being okay with the idea of handling the situation, he didn't seem to be too keen on how Niall wanted to go about said handling of the situation.

(Ignoring the fact that she had our no return address on the envelope, Liam had informed him that, apparently, random visits to people's houses are frowned upon in other countries when the home owner doesn't know the person arriving. Which was a pity. He had wanted to surprise her but heaven forbid that be socially acceptable. Or, you know, possible.)

So he was back at square one with ideas on how to meet her-but he'd be damned if he was going to give up on meeting her just yet. He was going to talk to her, convince her that he had nothing to do with this Alexis person and make her see that he wasn't as horrible as he had been made out to be. He didn't think the boys understood the desire he had to meet her, to make her understand; that was fine as long as they didn't taunt him about it. He didn't think they would. None of them were daft enough to cross a line at a time like this. When it was over, maybe, but not now. But if they didn't stop shooting down his ideas left and right like he were proposing infecting the world with a bubonic plague, they might not be alive to see the end of it. He knew they could see how irritated he was getting and he knew they were only trying to help. He just had the feeling they were hindering more than helping at the moment.

Zayn, currently lounged across the sofa with Harry's head in his lap, said with tired brown eyes that no longer held amusement, "Why don't you just email her? Can't be that hard to find out what her email is, right?" Niall nearly rolled his eyes but chose to sigh in response. He wasn't even going to explain that one again, how she would think it was a hoax and would discredit the email before she ever gave him a chance. Louis was silent, which was strange to him. He hadn't spoken for a whole-and upon close inspection, realized that the elder boy was asleep in his arm chair. He should have been irritated but he knew that the youngest of his sisters had had a fever and wanted no one but Louis to tend to her since he was home for a short break from tour. He could allow Louis this one pass, even if it didn't afford him any more ideas.

He really could have used Louis for this. It had been a couple of days since he had told them about the incident and now he was at a loss on how to remedy the situation since even his friends couldn't come up with a solution. Frowning, he let the silence stretch on before the youngest of the group spoke and interrupted his thoughts on how best to go about this. "Well, she didn't put a return address on the envelope so visiting her is out of the question. But you said she had a twitter account so why not follow her and message her off of the official account? You could talk to her, offer to Skype with her or something."

Silence stretched on again and when Liam voiced no protest a grin, wide and bright, stretched over his lips; he leapt out of his chair, planting a kiss on Harry's forehead and ran out of the room like a bat shot out of hell as he called his thanks out to the half asleep group in the living room.

He made it to his room in record timing and upon surveying the mess there, he knew he had to clean it...and then find the laptop he had bought a year ago and never used.

Honestly, setting up a laptop should not have been this and again, neither should have actually finding the laptop but he hadn't been inclined to make the effort to clean the room since he had gotten home. He was beginning to think Liam had a point when it came to being clean; it would have definitely been easier to find the damn computer had his room not looked like a hurricane had ripped through it twice. Or three times. Maybe he should have just been thankful that he had found it and Zayn was willing to set it up; he also should have been thankful that Liam had taken to folding and organizing everything in his room. Mostly, though, he was trying to think of how to say what he wanted to say to the girl who had written to him.

How was he supposed to convince her that he wanted to correct a mistake he had never made? That he wanted to make things right when he had done no wrong?

It was a silly idea but he couldn't get the idea of someone hurting because of him out of his head. It seemed wrong that she should have to suffer without closure, without knowing how he really was-that he wasn't an ass or a jerk and that he didn't do things like that to people. Guitar in his lap, he picked at the strings on the acoustic instrument with only half a mind on the rhythm he played as he thought of how he would tell her he had read the letter and wanted to make amends. Simple in theory, but who knew if she would take the bait and give him a chance to explain? She could be bitter about it by now and would want nothing to do with him or the band. Nimble fingers faltered in the steady rhythm he had been producing at the thought and he didn't have time to puzzle over why his heart clenched like it had because Louis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, walked through his bedroom door and let out an exaggerated whistle. "Didn't know this room had a floor," he jibed as he sat next to him on the bed. Niall rolled his eyes and resumed playing, head resting against the wall and eyes closed as the melody filled the room again.

Harry followed not long after, Niall was sure because he felt the other side of the bed sink in slightly. True to form, Harry spoke after a pause that was too long. "Is that a new song?" Niall opened one blue eye and peered at him strangely. "No," was the soft and clipped reply he got before Niall resumed playing...or he would have had not Louis moved his arm away from him so he could snuggle into him. If anything, Louis was a cuddle whore; Niall could never seem to deny the older boy anything so he pulled Louis closer and gave into the warmth soaking into his side. Harry's head came to rest on his other shoulder and the only noise in the room came from the gentle tapping of keys on the laptop. It was quiet enough that he could have fallen asleep if his mind would have slowed down just a bit. But the image of the hurt young girl seemed to be engraved into his retinas and he knew he wouldn't sleep until he finished this.

Finally, finally, Zayn turned around from the desk and sighed. "There Nialler. All fixed up, including your account on Skype." Perhaps the smile he gave him was grateful, perhaps it was terrified. Either way, he tried to give Zayn a smile for his troubles, knowing it probably looked more like a grimace in the end. The pat on the shoulder the elder boy gave him told him that he was probably right but he didn't have time to worry about that now. He needed to worry about what to say to the girl. Louis and Harry peeled themselves off of him and he put the instrument he'd been using as a distraction down beside him. A sigh, quiet and shallow, escaped through his nose and he went to the desk where the laptop had been set.

There was no denying he needed to do this, needed to have some sort of closure with the girl he'd unknowingly wronged; the knowledge of that didn't make him any less nervous. Sitting down at the desk, he opened the browser in the laptop and logged into his twitter. Taking a deep breath, he typed her name into the search bar and clicked on it when the account popped up. He raked his teeth between his lower lip, finger hovering over the mouse pad as he hesitated-but the memory of the letter flashed vividly behind his eyes and he tapped the follow button without an ounce of hesitance.

Now came the hard part. With bated breath, he opened the dm's, typed a message, and sent it before he could think too hard on what he had said:

This is Niall. Can we Skype?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Niall's POV)

Time is a funny thing. He shouldn't have expected her to respond right away, even if she had looked at it immediately after he sent it. Still, two and a half hours after he had sent the message was a long time to wait, he thought. Given the time difference, she most likely hadn't even been awake when he had sent it. On the bright side of things, he had been so desperate to occupy his time and not think of what she would say that he had gotten around to cleaning his apartment. He hadn't actually realized how dirty it had become before he hunkered down and started really cleaning two hours ago. Honestly, he was a pig and he didn't know why Liam didn't have a permanent eye twitch or a complex from being in his apartment almost non stop for two, almost three days. He had done the dishes, cleaned out the fridge, straightened the cabinets, mopped the kitchen and the bathroom, put on a load to wash, taken out the trash, and had made the living room look inhabitable. And then he had nothing to do. So he put on a film.

He had moved his laptop to the living room before he had even started cleaning, sitting it on the coffee table; currently, he was idly watching the aforementioned film and picking at a carton of cold Chinese takeout. (If he glanced at the screen of the laptop more than he watched the film, that was no one's business but his own, he reasoned. And if he just so happened to make a completely undignified yelp when a noise came from it, signaling a new message in twitter, no one had to know that either. Some things were best kept quiet.)

With a new message in front of him on the screen, he put the chopsticks in the container, hastily wiping his hands on his shorts after securing the container between his knees, and scooted forward to click on the highlighted message: Is this a joke? Why would you wanna Skype with me?

Ah, she didn't believe him. He had expected this so he typed carefully, sending her a reply: Give me five minutes. Just five and I swear I'll leave you alone for good. Please.

There was a long pause, one where he thought he might pass out if she said no and unfollowed him so he couldn't send her messages...

And then the computer beeped again, showing another message: Fine. Five minutes, poser.

She included her Skype username and he sat there for a moment, frozen, unsure of how to proceed. And then it was like he could see Louis gleefully adding her to his contacts and Skyping with her and telling her horribly embarrassing things about him. Shaking his head to clear his mind of the image, he did just that, adding her to his contacts and requesting a Skype chat with her-calling her, in essence. The two minutes it took for her to respond seemed to last even longer than the two hours prior and there was a moment, just one moment where he wondered if he was doing the right thing by trying to contact her and make amends. And then didn't have time to think because an image appeared in his screen and he failed to remember how the English language worked.

Hair messy and eyes bright with suspicion, a girl in her early twenties showed on his screen wearing a school jersey on her upper half. She looked tired, like she had just woken up and had a bowl with a spoon in it in her lap. Her posture was somewhat slumped and he had a slight suspicion that she probably hadn't even showered. But he didn't care about that, about how her clothes looked rumpled from sleep or how her hair looked-even the fact that she didn't have on any makeup didn't particularly register because all he could seem to process was the girl who had written him, the one he had worried himself sick over, had to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He probably looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly as he tried to find something, anything, to say at the surprised look she wore.

"Um...Hi. I'm Niall." ...anything but that.

Amusement flashed in her dark eyes and her lips quirked. "I know. And I'm guessing you know who I am, right?" He nodded, eyes flitting over her face and taking in how she seemed much more responsive to the idea of talking to him now that she knew he wasn't lying.

...which brought him mentally back to the original point of why he had went through all of the effort to get in contact with her to begin with.

A small sigh escaped, a frown crossing his lips and he reached for the chopsticks, picking them up absentmindedly and using them to prod at the cold noodles in the container. He looked up, cerulean eyes searching her expression and before he could process it, blurted out an apology. Her eyebrows furrowed at the words and her head tilted slightly to the side. "But you have nothing to be sorry for-you did nothing wrong. You had nothing to do with what happened. The person was hateful and cruel and I was stupid enough-"

"Don't. Don't call yourself stupid. You're incredibly smart and one of the bravest people I know for writing the letter you sent to me." He half expected her to cry-but instead she looked sad, like she thought he was misguided. "I'm just sorry that...that my career caused you this much pain, all the suffering you had to go through. Honestly, I had no part of it and I just want you to know that that's not who I am. I wouldn't have done something like that to you-and I would have put a stop to it if I had known it was happening."

He couldn't seem to temper the earnestness out of the way he spoke and something in her expression softened, her sadness melting away into gentle sympathy. "I know you would have, Niall," she reassured him. The tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his chest and on his heart loosened at the words and he gave her a sheepish smile. Silence swirled between them and she lifted her spoon from the bowl, taking a bite of what he presumed to be cereal.

"So...what's your favorite color?"

Judging by her laugh, he really needed a filter between his brain and mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Phoebe's POV)

In the years she had known Ashley Youngblood, she had deduced that she had four stages that her moods flitted through on a monthly basis.

Stage one was the one she had seen the most of during the early stages of their friendship was her least favorite; it was the one that reminded her of just how fragile her best friend really was emotionally. This stage in the tier of her moods was the depressed/crying one that Ashley had found herself in most of the time then and more often than not was the one she was in when she would harm herself. The second stage (or mood in the tier) was one she liked even less, but unfortunately coincided with the depressed one due to Ashley's hair trigger reactions. Ashley, despite the aforementioned emotional fragility, was hot blooded and a fighter; when she wasn't depressed she would be pissed off and ready to rip the throats out of any unlucky passerby. Funny that it should be her who would have to be the one running interference when she had a temper that was just as bad. She had lost count of the arguments they'd had, letting the past anger slide off of her like water on an oil slick. There would be many more arguments and holding grudges over past ones would do her and her best friend no good.

The third stage/mood in the tier was one she didn't know how to feel about. It was the one where Ashley felt depressed and emotionally broken, but thought that hiding it with a smile would be best so that no one would feel like she was a burden on them (that had been their first and single biggest fight after moving in together; she could remember screaming at the older girl that she wasn't stupid and if there was a problem with her living with her she would tell her like an adult. They didn't speak to each other for a week and the crying period after it was a horrendously long weekend full of tissues and ice cream and American Horror Story Marathons). She didn't like to think about that one too much so she just left well enough alone and decided to only think about it and how to handle it if it ever happened again.

This lead her to the final stage/mood tier-the best one. This was the one where Ashley was generally happy with life, content to be living with her best friend in a country house and working in a diner to pay off college classes to finish getting her degree. She liked this one the most and in the last few months, after sending a letter to someone who was really important to her and getting the closure she needed, Ashley had been in this mood a lot. She couldn't begrudge her for anything when the girl was so obviously happy-and really, after what she had been through, she deserved every ounce of happiness she could get.

But now there was a new tier to add to the moods she had: Deliriously happy. She had never seen her best friend as happy as she had been the past week. She wasn't particularly afraid that her friend had done something bad, because could something bad make her that happy? Ashley could barely manage not to feel bad about drinking the last of the milk so she doubted she had done anything that merited a guilty conscience. But what could have happened to make her so happy? She had been humming to herself while she cleaned, smiling at odd things that made no sense (even though she loved the subject, no amount of literature homework could make anyone happy) and hadn't even complained one afternoon when she came in and saw a Glee marathon on the TV. That, for her, had been the tipping point. She started paying closer attention and noticed that not only was Ashley going to bed earlier than normal, but she would stay cooped up in her room for hours at a time and when she came out looked unreasonably happy.

She had to get to the bottom of this. Currently, it was a Thursday morning and they both didn't have anything to do until they took the afternoon shift at the diner her uncle and mother co-owned. She wore her typical pajamas for the winter time-black sweat pants and a baggy dark green sweater. Her hair was in a bun (not that it worked-hair still escaped) and she would forego any makeup until she had to put it on for work. If it made her look pale, who cared? She was in her own home and she didn't have to answer to anyone at the moment. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry than how she looked; she had to figure out what the hell was going on with her best friend.

Sitting Indian style in the couch, she tapped her pen against her notepad with her lip caught between her teeth. It just didn't make sense, how she was acting. Ashley was a happy person, yes. But not this happy. She didn't know what to make of how she was acting and she didn't know how to go about making the insinuation that something about her best friend's behavior was off and not offend her. How do you tell your best friend that because they were acting happy that you thought something was wrong? The idea sounded wrong, in principle, but given the situation she thought her behavior merited slight suspicion. The issue was finding a way to bring it up. Perhaps there wasn't a good way and it was like ripping off a band-aid. She would just have to do it, get it over with before she could think about it too hard.

Putting her pen down, she sighed and stood off of the couch in their living room and walked to her best friend's door. She knew she would be probably be asleep or lounging around but she needed answers and if the only way to get them was to be as blunt as possible then so be it. Curling her fingers to form a fist, she raised her hand to the wood, intending to knock-but paused at the familiar sound of her best friend's soft laughter from the other side and the sound of a voice, lilting and amused, that wasn't the voice of her best friend. As a matter of fact, that voice sounded distinctly male. Her eyes narrowed, fist lowering as she thought of all the pain her best friend had suffered through recently, all that she had helped her through; before she could process it, she twisted the door knob and flung open the door to her best friend's room.

She was in her pajamas, completely relaxed and smiling at the computer screen. She looked up at the noise of the door opening, however, and her skin paled at the look of anger in her room mates eyes. She didn't say anything to Ashley, marching over to her and snatching the computer out of her temporarily lax grip. She turned the screen towards her, intending to berate whoever was on the other end but stopped cold, seeing a pair of familiar blue eyes and faux blonde hair. Anger melted into shock that morphed into hurt and then the computer was back on the bed and she was running. Running far and running fast, trying to escape the sound of her heart ripping at the thought of her best friend lying to her.

(Ashley's POV)

There were no words to describe how awful she felt about what she had done to cause that look on her best friend's face. She knew where she had went and after waiting for a short amount of time, ended the Skype call with Niall with the intention to go after her. She went through the back door and on into the back yard, heading for the chicken coup that had been erected near an old pecan tree at the back of the one acre property. There was a pond that covered one third of the lower region of the acre and other than the dirt road and highway intersecting in front of it, it was surrounded by pine trees. There were no neighbors for at least a mile; the place was peaceful and beautiful in the summer when the grass was green and the trees had leaves on them. But now the leaves were long gone and she could clearly see a small figure huddled in a low lying branch on the pecan tree in the clear winter sunlight. A small sigh escaped her as she walked towards her and she called out, "I can explain everything, you know." She stopped beneath the tree, taking in the dark water of the pond, and waited for her to speak. "If you can explain it, then why didn't you tell me earlier?" Her voice was gentle, like she was most of the time-and had she not known the smaller girl as well as she she did, she wouldn't have heard the acid laced through the question, a silent warning that her temper would flare if she wasn't careful. Ashley had never been good at being careful.

She could feel her own temper rising, a small niggling at the back of her brain despite her mind telling her to be careful; rather than heeding the warning, she huffed out a sigh and crossed her arms over her chest, still looking at the water. "Because it's been a week? Because I still don't believe this is really happening to me? I don't know. I just... I just didn't, okay?" Had she glanced up, she would have seen blue eyes narrowing down at her but she didn't need to look up to know that her best friend's eyes had narrowed and that her lips were in a thin line. "Well maybe, and this is a radical idea so stay with me here, maybe you could have told your best friend and she could have helped you make sense of it instead of leaving her wondering what made you so happy that you've been practically shitting rainbows and sunshine only to find you on the internet, Skyping with someone who we both never thought would contact you!" The taller girl looked up as she finished and noted the high color on her cheeks and the faint pink tinge on her nose. She knew what was wrong, knew that she hated being lied to but... But really, what choice did she have?

"So you would have believed me if I had told you that Niall had contacted me, the real one, and that we had Skyped? You would have believed me right off the bat? No, you would not and you know it. You would have gotten pissed off and we would have had a major fight over it until I made him get on Skype and show you that I wasn't lying. So this is kind of a catch 22, isn't it? I tell the truth, we fight. I don't tell the truth, we fight. What exactly do you want here? What do you want from me? An explanation that makes sense? I hope not because I sure as hell don't have one!" With an eerie grace born of climbing trees her entire life, she leapt down from the branch and landed on her feet using only her fingers touching the ground in front of her to give her balance. Then she stood straight, icy grey blue eyes trained on the hazel eyed girl before her. "You don't owe me anything," was her cold reply and honestly, that was what infuriated Ashley about her. She never raised her voice, never yelled like she did. Instead she turned cold and distant, acting all calm and knowing like she had a right to look down on you (which was probably a good thing in her family when she had to tend to so many kids but she wasn't a kid, dammit!).

"Oh, don't you dare act all high and mighty on me, Philicia Taylor! I will throw you in that pond and let you be gator brunch!" A flash of something other than anger crossed her eyes for the briefest second and her lips twitched. A smirk curved Ashley's lips and a split second before she would have had the advantage, her best friend took off, shrieking in the early morning light.

So maybe she should have told her, but as soon as she caught the little devil they would go inside and talk it out like they should have from the beginning. And then maybe she could Skype with Niall and things would be okay once she got to talk to him and saw that he wasn't some psycho out to get her. But for the moment, as she raced for the sunflower patch in the other side of the property and heard her best friend's laughter, she had nothing else to worry about besides catching up with her and tackling her to the ground. And she was perfectly okay with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Phoebe's POV)

It took less time than she though it would to sort everything hour after being tackled to the ground, she was showered and in the kitchen, cooking egg sandwiches for the both of them while Ashley got the living room comfortable enough for them to relax in (which roughly translated into her stretching across the couch and "keeping both of their spots warm"). It didn't take long to make the sandwiches and soon she was carrying two plates to the living room, vision landing on what should have been an oddity. Ashley sitting up and smiling at a computer screen when she could have been asleep by now was certainly odd, but not if you took into account the voice coming from the screen.

"Breakfast is served." That was the only warning Ashley got before the plate landed in her lap and startled her. She couldn't help but snort at the look of indignation on her best friend's face as she sat down two glasses of milk on the coffee table beside the computer. Ashley rolled her eyes and there was a moment of silence before a voice broke it, Irish lilt prominent and failing to hide his amusement. "Sorry for the scare earlier. I know you didn't expect to see me on the screen." Taking a bite of her sandwich, she shrugged, opting to chew rather than talk. Ashley smacked her on the arm with the back of her hand and she sighed heavily, swallowing and saying, "It's fine, Irish. We talked it out and I'm not gonna skin you alive. Yet." His eyebrows raised at her words and Ashley rolled her eyes, adding, "Ignore her. She's all bark and no bite." She took another bite of her sandwich and chose not to reply to that. Her concentration on her surroundings slipped as Ashley spoke up, saying something to Niall that he laughed at.

She took another bite, knowing she couldn't help but worry and wonder what this-the sudden friendship between her best friend and a world wide known member of a boy band-would mean for the future.

Would he ever want to meet her in person?

Would he want both of them to come and meet him in England at some point in the future?

What about meeting the rest of the band?

Her thoughts halted at that and she nearly choked on her sandwich; she coughed, reaching for her glass of milk and taking a large gulp. She used a napkin to wipe her mouth once she could breathe and registered Niall asking if she was okay as she crumpled it up in her hand, curling her fingers into a fist and closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she stood and grabbed her glass of milk, walking out of the living room and back into the kitchen. She put her plate on the counter, picking up the sandwich again and taking another bite of it, chewing pensively as she thought about what could happen. Honestly, she wouldn't be able to survive if they had to meet the others in the band. Ashley being with Niall, friends or more, was fine. She could live with that idea but the idea of meeting Harry, the idea of being near him made her lungs clench and her throat close up. She could hear Ashley making an excuse to leave and come talk to her and she picked up the glass of milk, taking another long draft of it as she heard Ashley's soft footsteps.

"I knew it would hit you soon enough. Tell me which one you're freaking out over meeting." The glare she received for that told her what she thought of her intelligence and her older friend rolled her eyes. "He's a person you know," was her gentle rebuttal to the war going on in the smaller girl's head.

...who sank into a seat at the long white counter and thunked her head dramatically in the table, groaning in frustration.

Ashley laughed and she kicked at her blindly, barely hitting her knee. She rubbed her back in circles with her right hand and smoothed over her hair before saying, "It'll be fine. Stop stressing. Besides, we've only been talking for a few days. It's not like he's about to propose or anything." She chose not to reply to that and instead focused on breathing.

(Niall's POV)

He didn't know what he should have expected when it came to her best friend but she was a walking contradiction. Ashley had gushed about her endlessly in the time they had talked on Skype and he had at least expected her to look a bit...tougher, maybe? She didn't look nearly as terrifying as Ashley had described her to be; she looked like she was over eighteen, maybe, but that was pushing it. He highly doubted she was 21 like Ashley said. She looked like she might be as frightening as angry kitten. He didn't know how she could have been as fierce as she was and there was no way she could have been as scary as Ashley had claimed when they had had their first real argument after moving in together.

(Which had made him ask if she was built like a linebacker and now he understood why Ashley had laughed as hard as she did).

Currently, he was on the phone with Zayn and was attempting to explain this to him so that he would understand why he was so puzzled by the conversation he had had with her and Ashley earlier this morning. Zayn was more or less amused by the events and had offered no helpful advice on how to go about befriending the girl. "She just has such a high opinion of her and if I want to keep talking to Ashley I'm going to have to make nice with her, yeah?" Zayn hummed in agreement and Niall sighed, knowing Zayn was probably in the middle of something really artsy he wouldn't understand.

And then he answered. "Course you do. But, like, don't make her think you're doing it just to get in the girl's good graces or she might tell the other girl and she'll stop talking to you anyway if she thinks you're a jerk or whatever. Just try and get along with her because you want to. Or pretend you do so she isn't offended." Huh. So Zayn could be useful. He thanked Zayn, taking in the late afternoon light that flooded the living room through the windows and thought it over as he stood and walked to the kitchen. Pulling a soda out of the fridge, he took a long drink and kicked the fridge door closed with his foot; Zayn was right. He didn't need to be an ass hat. Maybe he could get along with her and be friends with her just in general, without Ashley. She didn't seem too bad to be around; she seemed a little stand offish, yes, but not unapproachable in the end.

He sat on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV and pulled his laptop to him. Opening it and clicking on the browser, it only took second before he was on the right website and logging into twitter once again. This time, rather than typing in the one he knew by memory from all of the direct messages he had sent over the past week, he typed in a different username; one he had memorized from reading Ashley's bio over and over while waiting for her to reply to his messages. Instantly, the picture popped up and he clicked on the profile, following her and sending her a message much like the first one :

This is Niall. Can we Skype later? Without Ashley?

What was it with American girls and making a person wait for forever before they replied to them? Honestly, it was like it was a conspiracy plot. About three hours after he had originally sent the message, she came on twitter and sent a reply: You're lucky I have a paper due when I get back to school and I begged off work. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and entered her Skype name (mentioned in a separate message) into his contacts before placing a call to her. It only took a minute before he was answered and a pale face, not the one he had grown accustomed to, filled the screen. Arms crossed over her chest and her nose wrinkled, she looked mildly displeased at best...and it disconcerted Niall that the look on her face made him feel like he had done something wrong, that it made him want to double check and make sure he hadn't actually done something wrong just so she wouldn't have anything to berate him for. Maybe Ashley had a point. Maybe she was terrifying when she wanted to be.

He gave her a nervous smile and she rolled her eyes, uncrossing her arms and sighing. "Don't act like you're on trial, sheesh. You called me, not the other way around." He relaxed just the tiniest bit and she cleared her throat, saying in a much calmer tone, "Why did you call?" He shrugged, looking down at his lap and picking at a loose thread in his shorts, and was startled by her next sentence. "You know, besides to tell me that you really like her and you want to know if I'm going to try and cause any problems in your relationship, should you try to have one."

His mouth opened and closed; he knew he looked like an idiot, lost for words at her observation and she gave him a wry smile. Should it have made his heart ache to see such a tired expression on the girl's face? Maybe it was because she looked so innocent and she shouldn't have looked wiser than her years; in that moment she had looked much older than 21. She looked like she had lived through a few lifetimes and had been through hell in every one of them. He wanted to hug her and make the aged look in her eyes disappear for just a moment, make her see that things didn't have to be that bad...but she was oblivious to his musings and kept on talking, interrupting his train of thought.

"Look, Niall. I'm sure you're a nice guy and that you plan on saying that you just want to be friends with Ashley. That's all well and good but let me tell you how this is gonna be. You can say that now, which is fine, but one day you're gonna wanna meet her; you'll want to get to know her better in person. And then you're going to adore her and dote on her and give her everything and anything she wants until one day you wake up and realize that you're in love with her. And then you're going to be in far too deep to climb out of the hole you dug yourself into. And Ashley is... Ashley doesn't just have a skeleton in her closet, Niall. She has a walk in closet and her skeletons organized. She has her own universe of issues and she doesn't need some flaky guy to come into her world and shake her up and leave her hanging high and dry when things get too rough. I know you read the letter, and I know you think you know that she's been hurt in the past, but trust me when I tell you that you don't know shit about her. She is the single most beautiful person you will ever meet and when she's herself, you want to be with her and by her side no matter what. But there's more than one side to her, Niall, and not every side she has is roses and sunshine."

She paused, teeth raking over her lower lip as she took in a shaky breath and looked up at him again, continuing to speak. "I won't interfere with any part of this...whatever this is between the two of you. I just want you to think, I mean I really think this over before you decide how deep you want to go into this relationship, Niall. Because if there's one thing I know Ashley can't take, it's you breaking her heart." And the call ended, his back ground glaring at him as if it could see his dropped jaw.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Harry's POV)

The advantage of being friends with someone for a long time is that you know when something is bothering them. The problem with being friends with someone for a long time is that you know when something is bothering them. Both a curse and a blessing, he knew when Niall was agitated and nervous-and right now just so happened to be one of those moments. The issue was that he also knew that if he tried to approach Niall before he was ready to address the problem he would clam up and not talk about it for a week. He tended to do that, despite the bubbly personality everyone thought he had. He was a normal person-well, a normal person with a few trust issues thanks to the divorce his parents had when he was younger and the mind games his mother played with him while he lived with her until he decided to live with his father for a little while. Because of his tendency to not trust people due to his past, Harry was stuck at an impasse, sitting on his best friend's couch and watching him through the corner of his eye while he pretended to watch a movie he had seen a hundred times.

He leaned an elbow against the arm of the couch and out of a habit he had yet to break (everyone kept telling him to because it was weird) he bit the side of his pointer finger near the knuckle, pensive shifting the skin gently between his teeth as he tried to think of a way to bring this up with Niall. It seemed like it was only a few seconds later that Niall's foot nudged his and he was asking what was wrong with him, what was on his mind. The look he got for that made Niall look down at his lap, wringing his hands. Reaching forward, he grabbed the remote and turned the TV down before fully turning to Niall and waiting for him to speak. Finally, taking a shaky breath, he started to speak. "Earlier, I talked with Ashley's friend and she made a few fair points. She told me to really think about what I was getting myself into because even from the letter, it's easy to tell that Ashley has issues. Issues that can be serious and hard to deal with at times and she wanted me to really think it through because she knew that one day I would end up wanting out if I didn't and Ashley couldn't take me of all people breaking her heart."

"Her friend is a smart girl," Harry said absentmindedly, thinking over the implications of what the girl had told him. "Yeah and surprisingly terrifying," Niall muttered. Harry arched an eyebrow at that but didn't press the issue when Niall didn't elaborate. "So what are you going to do about it?" He asked after a long moment where Niall made it apparent he wouldn't be speaking without first being prompted. "I haven't the slightest idea," was the blunt reply he got. Niall ran a hand through his bright blonde hair and Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, you kind of knew she had issues from the beginning, right? You couldn't have been completely blind to it, since you read her letter. So what's different now?" He shrugged, picking up the almost full soda can he had on the coffee table and taking a swig from it. "Dunno. I guess it's just more real now that I know her. When it was just the letter there wasn't much at stake, yeah? But then I met her and now there's a person to consider-well her and her best friend who may or may not be a part of the mafia. I'm about ninety percent sure she is. Is the mafia in the south or is it strictly New York-right, sorry. Staying focused."

He sighed, putting the can down and ignoring the amused look one of his four best friends was wearing. "She can't be that bad. And really, what are you going to do? Just keep it casual and never meet her? Doesn't seem like something you'd do." Niall frowned, standing and walking to the kitchen; Harry stood and followed, watching as Niall poked around in the fridge. When he finally closed the door, holding a container of Chinese take out, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay, first of all, she may be tiny but she is lethal. She made me want to double up on church visits before the conversation was over. She has the guilt trip down pat. She's like a Liam 2.0. And second, this isn't exactly a normal situation, is it?" He brushed past Harry and collapsed on the couch, trying to ignore Harry's scrutinization. "So, what? You're just going to cop out and tell the girl it was nice meeting her, have a nice life without you?"

Niall groaned, tossing the closed container of noodles into the table and glared at Harry. "No, I can't. I can't just cop out and leave her hanging. I just don't know if I'm good enough, strong enough to be there for her like she needs me. I'm not worried about her having too many issues. I'm worried about me not being able to handle them, not being able to be strong enough to help her." Harry shook his head, coming to sit beside him and letting out a sigh of his own. "Well, I think you can handle it, but it's really up to you." He paused, chewing on his lower lip and then his expression brightened as he had an idea. "Or you could meet both of them in person and then make your decision. You can't really know her through a few computer chats and a letter. Why don't you just invite her over here for new year's eve and you can get to know her?" Niall shook his head immediately, saying, "No dice. Her friend terrifies me."

Another eye roll later, Harry offered a rebuttal. "If you want to continue the relationship, you're going to have to deal with her anyway, Nialler." Niall all but pouted, knowing he had a fair point. He couldn't avoid her if he wanted to continue talking to Ashley or even begin a relationship (he was pointedly ignoring the insinuation that they were already in one together that Harry had made and the fact that his heart had done double time at the thought). "Fine. We'll have a party. But you'd better make sure everyone comes to it or you owe me a year of take out." He grinned at Harry's shudder and reached for the remote, turning the volume up on the TV.

(Phoebe's POV)

Ever since they had had the chat with Niall together, and she had seen her having a slight breakdown over the future implications of the relationship between her best friend and the aforementioned band member, Ashley had been acting like she was walking on shards of glass around her. It was beginning to irritate her and it wasn't even past breakfast. She frowned and looked at Ashley, noting how she was carefully eating her cereal like she had begged her to do ever since she had moved in; she knew, was intelligent enough to deduce that Ashley thought if she was on good behavior that she wouldn't snap and freak out on a bigger scale. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell her she had spoken to Niall and was past the whole freaking out thing, but that would require not only Ashley knowing that she had talked to Niall alone but also a two hour chat after where Ashley dissected every word they had exchanged. She also didn't think Ashley would be too fond of her little speech. Ashley loved her but she didn't like it when she was overprotective (and talking to Niall like she had was definitely being over protective). A small sigh escaped her and she sat her spoon down in her empty bowl, earning a worried glance from Ashley.

"Okay, you have got to stop acting like I'm gonna snap," she muttered, standing with her bowl and taking it to the sink. Ashley voiced no protest or agreement as she walked to the living room and sat on the couch. She did follow a few minutes later and sat down beside her, pulling her laptop to her and opening it. As her eyes flitted across the screen, a grin spread across her lips and she squealed a little, clicking on something. Really, it didn't take a lot of brains to guess that Niall had requested she Skype with him. "Hey Ni. Did you just get up?" Yep, definitely talking to Niall then. A small sigh escaped through her nose and she leaned forward to grab her notebook and pen, intending to ignore the conversation, but she had no more made a bullet for an outline than had Niall mentioned her. She looked up, surprised, and listened as he said, "So I was thinking last night and I realized that I've talked to you but I don't really know you as well as I want to. So I was hoping that you and your friend would come over to my house for a New Year's Eve party?"

Well it seemed like he had certainly made his decision, didn't it? This should be interesting, she thought wryly as she leaned over to where the camera could capture her disapproving expression. "You live in England," she reminded him in a blunt tone. An eyebrow arched and his expression had more than enough attitude to rebuttal the sentence with a silent "no shit, Sherlock, you're a genius!". "We're college students living in a farm house. We don't have the money to travel there much less to rent a place to stay and fly back," she pointed out before he could speak again. He rolled his eyes, saying, "Am I paint on a wall or what? I can pay for air tickets and for whatever else you need. You can stay at a hotel, stay at my place, whatever you want. I just want the two of you to come." Her eyes narrowed at him and he looked right back at her until she glanced over at Ashley, who was looking at Niall, puzzled...

And then turned her eyes on her, pleading and just a bit too bright. Ashley knew how to use that look, knew that it tore her best friend to pieces to say no to her when she looked like that. She had never been able to deny her best friend anything anyway, so with a sigh she conceded, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine. We'll go to England just stop looking at me like that!" She had never heard Ashley squeal as excitedly as she did then.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Phoebe's POV)

"What do you mean you're flying out to England for the New Year? Are you insane? No, don't answer hat because you have to be. I have been planing this party for months and then at the drop of a hat your skitzoid friend decides she wants to go to England and you're dropping me for that? Really? Honestly, I expected more from my own sister-"

She sighed quietly through her nose, lip caught between her teeth as she listened to her brother rant through her head phones about her sudden decline to his invite to a New Year's Eve celebration he had been planning for a month or more. In the beginning she had helped him plan everything, but in the end offered to only help if it was desperately needed as he became neurotic about even the tiniest things. She didn't feel like being the court jester, the one constantly in the line of fire just because he needed someone to blame something on. He had a fiancée for that and she didn't have to be a part of the planning process at all. She had wanted to be nice, not be a firing target for him to take aim at whenever he pleased. But, no matter what she thought about how he dealt with things, he did have the right to be upset, she mused as she looked around the seating area of the plane she was in.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the interior, noting that it looked and smelled like it had been rarely used, if ever. She tried not to think about it too hard; even a passing thought on it made her want to physically cringe. She wasn't the type of person who was ungrateful, she really wasn't. She just didn't see the necessity of them going in a private jet to England when no one knew who they were or where they were going. Unlike Niall, they could pull off looking like regular tourists because they almost were. No one cared if they went to England or not and it probably would have costed a lot less to buy regular air tickets than to get a private jet prepped and fueled to, what? Fly twice? She didn't even wanna think about how much that had costed. If she tried to, she thought she might actually sprain a muscle in her brain.

She knew they had money to spend until kingdom come and wouldn't go broke, probably wouldn't even put a dent in the bank, but it felt like something physically ached inside of her when she thought about all of that money being wasted on her. It was a travesty that thousands (or more, she was 99% sure, seeing as she actually had no idea how much it costed to get a private jet stocked and ready) had been spent just to bring them to England-and that wasn't even counting the hotel they were staying at or the trip back home in a couple of days. So instead of thinking about all of the money that was being wasted, she tuned into her brother's rant and tried not to feel too glad that she was already a few hours away from him and over an ocean where he couldn't get to her.

A few more hours and a power nap later, she sat in the aforementioned hotel room and watched (in equal parts amusement and exasperation) as Ashley sorted through every single outfit she had packed into the suitcases that she had brought with her...which was a surprising amount considering that she had only brought a minimal amount of luggage (that fact alone was owed to the two piece luggage limit she had imposed after Ashley had pulled about eight bags out into the kitchen of the farm house; there was no way they were packing that much for a couple of days). She picked lightly at the hem of her own sweater, wishing she would have made an outfit plan for her best friend too. She knew what she was going to wear every day of their stay and she was comfortable with her choices. Maybe she would have been nervous like Ashley, if she were in her shoes, but she wasn't. She wasn't and she could see how badly her friend was over thinking the situation.

Standing up from the couch (he had gotten them one of the high end suites, with a living room and a full kitchen and bathroom-what the hell? A room with two beds and a kitchenette would have been fine but heaven forbid that he should save money), she quietly moved to where she could stand beside her. "You do know he won't care what you wear because he has the brain of a guy, right?" The glare she received for that made her roll her eyes and throw her hands up in surrender. She walked away and sat down on the couch again, picking her phone up off of the coffee table and clicking on the screen. She browsed through her emails, seeing one from her brother that bemoaned her absence at the party he was throwing; it niggled something in the back of her brain, made her think of all of the things she would have to do in order to be ready for the party Niall was going to throw.

Speaking of which, she would have to ask him how she could help with that. Guest or not, she wanted to make sure that went off without a hitch. If she was going to be an attendant, she wanted the party to be worthwhile. Going to her notes app, she began to make a list of things she would check on with Niall. Ten minutes later, she had a decent list compiled as Ashley emerged from the bedroom portion of the suite. Eyes raking over her outfit, she stood and pocketed her phone while she sighed, saying critically, "Took you long enough, slow poke." Ashley frowned at her and she walked over to her to pull her into a bone crushing hug, saying, "You look wonderful. Don't over think it. Now let's call a cab and get the hell outta dodge before you digress and think you should wear a yoga outfit or something." Ashley's expression seemed to light up at the idea and she groaned, pulling out her phone and grabbing a phone book. She was not going through this again.

She could probably get paid for her ability to calm people down, she mused as she sat in a cab next to her best friend. The cab had been mercifully clean and relatively free of smells (the smell of car oil wasn't so bad; she had been to New York and holy crap on a cracker some of those cabs were a hazard to society). The main issue that had both her and the cab driver concerned was the fact that about two minutes into the ride Ashley had started to hyperventilate. Literally. The guy had asked if Ashley was okay and she had reassured him she knew how to handle this, that Ashley had anxiety problems and she calmed her down all the time. That had been true, when they had first moved in together. She had gotten Ashley calm down many a time by playing one direction songs-but this time she figured that she wouldn't be able to do that and it help; it might actually worsen the attack. So this time she grabbed her wrist, tugging her to where she was slumped against her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She used a free hand to run over her hair and started humming a tune low under her breath-one of the only other songs she could think of that wasn't by one direction. "Hello Beautiful" by the Jonas brothers was the song she played every night to go to sleep and she prayed, hoped like hell, that the song would work for her too. After a tense moment Ashley relaxed against her ever so slightly. She breathed a little easier at the tenseness easing in her best friend's muscles and her breathing becoming slightly less panicky.

When they were about five minutes out from the place, she gave her one last tight hug and kissed her forehead. "He's just as nervous as you are, if not more and if he laughs at you for anything his Irish ass is mine, okay? You have nothing to worry about." Ashley's laugh was barely here but she counted it as a win as she tried to sit up. She let her go and there was another long moment of silence before the cab came to a stop. Ashley's hand flew to hers and she was sure she would lose feeling in it within the hour if she held onto it like that for too long. She forced a smile, feeling the first tingling of nerves of her spine; she pushed the reaction to the back of her brain to process later so she could look like she didn't feel nervous at all. If Ashley saw that she was nervous, it would all go downhill from there. She let go of her hand, stepping out of the cab and waiting for Ashley to do the same (after she paid the man for driving them) before closing her door. She walked around the car and laced her fingers through Ashley's, squeezing them tight and walking up the driveway towards the apartment.

For everyone to think Niall was full of energy, he was awfully slow at getting to the door in time after someone rang the doorbell. By the time he reached the door and swung it open to reveal him standing in a pair of jeans and a sweater, she had let go of Ashley's hand and had one hip cocked to the side with her arms folded over her chest while she frowned. Ashley rolled her eyes, knowing that she wasn't so much irritated as she was nervous-and if she was good at anything, it was fronting the cold and pissed off I-am-not impressed-with-your-behavior-at-all look. Her eyes narrowed at him, grey blue in the early afternoon light, and he seemed to do a double take, his lips parting as if to say something but he backtracked. Probably a wise decision since she had an idea that he was going to comment on how she was lacking vertically. "Hi, come on in. Sorry about not getting to the door sooner; it's just that most people who come here don't even use it. Thought I was hearing things for a minute before I realized what was going on."

He led them down a short hallway and into the living room where the TV was on a low volume setting and she saw a music channel playing. He gestured generally towards the couch and continued to speak, saying, "You can have a seat if you'd like." Fingers around Ashley's wrist, she pulled her to the couch and forced her to sit. Niall followed, looking a little puzzled as he sat down on the other side of Ashley. Niall continued to speak without prompting and provided the perfect spot for Ashley to intervene before she could answer when he asked, "So how was your flight?" Ashley piped up before she could, saying, "It was lovely. You didn't have to go through all that trouble though, sending the jet. Regular flight tickets would have been fine." (Her answer would have been "over priced and unnecessary" but Ashely had a good alternative response). He shrugged it off, the picture of angelic modesty as he reassured her it was no trouble. And then silence fell.

She had never had an issue with silence but she knew Ashley did; when things were too quiet at the house she would always blurt out something random to fill it until a conversation was started. Before she could watch the ensuing disaster, she stood from her position on the couch and said politely to Niall, "May I use your restroom?" He nodded, giving her general directions. She followed them, heading upstairs and going to the bathroom with no intentions of using it. She had made sure to relieve her bladder before she had left; she just wanted to get out of the room and give them time alone. She probably wouldn't stay in the bathroom long-just long enough to get them to talk to each other like normal people and then she would walk in, sit down and leave them to it while she planned out the party for the next night.

She knew that if Niall was planning this thing by himself that it would probably fall flat. She could be wrong and he could be excellent at planning things but generally guys weren't. Well, guys who were straight weren't. Her brother was good at it, but he was as gay as they came...which only proved her point. She sighed as she found the bathroom and opened the door, stepping to the mirror and took in her reflection. She frowned a little, seeing that the weather had gotten to her hair. She would need to pull it up and get it out of the way so it would look manageable...or like she at least tried to look decent every day. Honestly, she hated how curly her hair got and how she always had to keep it up in a bun so people wouldn't think she was a cave woman.

True, it had always irritated her when her hair was in her face or around her neck. However, she was left to wonder if it had always been that way or if it had simply become a habit from having to reign her hair in on a daily basis. Taking a ponytail holder out of the pocket in her jeans, she gathered the now somewhat frizzy curls that went almost to her waist up and twisted it into a bun that she knew looked decent enough from having to pull her hair into it many a morning before rushing out the door to classes or the cover an emergency at the diner. She straightened her blue sweater, lips quirking as she remembered how Ashley had laughed when she had seen her, telling her she looked like a mini Bella swan (apparently the blue sweater reminded her of a scene from the book and there was something amusing to her about it).

Her eyes flitted over her face, taking in the small features that greeted her every day and she wondered if she should have worn makeup like Ashley had told her to. She honestly wasn't a fan of makeup; she didn't like the feel of foundation on her skin and eyeliner and mascara annoyed her, made her eyes water and sting even if it was waterproof. She was okay with lip gloss, sometimes, but most of the time she was barely bothered to wear Chapstick. She pulled her jeans up more around her hips, straightening her sweater one more time before checking the time on her phone and pointedly ignoring the panicked text she had gotten from Ashley about a minute ago that claimed she would be written out of her will and she'd bury her body in the pond behind the house when they got home and no one would ever find her remains.

(Ashley tended to be on the dramatic side when in high pressure situations-by the end of the visit she would probably promise to name her first born after her or something equally ridiculous).

A small sigh escaped and with one last look in the mirror, she walked out of the bathroom and headed downstairs. It didn't take long to get to where she need to go; she was at the doorway to the living room in just a minute or two, but took pause, closing her eyes and resting her head just outside of it and listening in on the conversation inside. It wasn't hard to deduce that they were both laughing about something and a small smile curved her lips. Ashley really did deserve this. She did. And she was so happy that she had the opportunity and the means to meet the one person she had cared for for so long. A tenseness in her shoulders she hadn't wanted to admit was there melted away and she stood straight, intending to walk in the living room and leave them to it like she had planned.

But as she opened her eyes, she noticed a figure on the other side of the doorway that was peering into the living room curiously, amusement dancing in his eyes...and then he looked at her, eyes having just the tiniest flash of another emotion before he motioned with his head toward the kitchen. She felt frozen, like her muscles had seized up at the sight of him. It hadn't really hit her that all of this was real, that it was truly happening. Up until now she had been trying so hard to keep Ashley calm that she had forgotten to mentally prepare her own self for meeting them. She hadn't let herself believe that she was going to meet all of them at some point during this visit and that her life would be changed. She had been in denial. And now she was standing in a hallway in Niall Horan's apartment and looking at Liam Payne.

He looked at her, waiting for her to respond and it seemed that him looking at her like that was all it took for her to get with the program. She felt something click and there was a second of shivering silence before she felt her lungs expand as she forced herself to breathe. She nodded, not feeling her legs move as she silently padded after him and into the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Direction (though it would be nice, right?) Again: Don't own, don't sue.**

(Phoebe's POV)

Up close, it wasn't as hard as it should have been to believe that Liam might actually have been part of some Greek legend in a past life. He really was pretty, I mused as I followed him carefully into the kitchen area of the flat. The only sound that could be heard was the sound the heels in the boots I wore clicking against the tile and the light laughter in the living room. He turned around and there was another healthy moment of silence before he smiled and said, "Are you the girl Niall's been talking to all week?" An eyebrow arched and his smile faltered slightly. "No, that would be the girl in the living room. I'm her best friend, phoebe." His slightly tense posture eased and I felt my lips twitch. "I was hoping you were Ashley, to be honest. That way I could tell you all sorts of embarrassing things about Niall before you went in there to talk to him again. Better luck next time, maybe."

"Maybe," I acquiesced and paused before adding on a question. "Who exactly is planning he party that's going to happen here in a couple of days?" Liam rolled his eyes, sighing as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a sip, closing it and hip checking the fridge to close the door before answering. "Not Niall. I think Harry is the one shouldering that responsibility. I handle the clean up afterwards, mostly. He handles all of the planning around here." He sat the bottle on the counter and leaned against it again, bright brown eyes peering down at me. "I expected you to look a bit rougher, a bit meaner, to be honest. Niall called all of us after the conversation the two of you had and by the way he described it, you threw the guilt trip pretty strong and simultaneously terrified him. Quite the multitasker, you are."

I could feel my eyebrows rising in disbelief and a smile spreading over my lips. "He was scared of me? What, is he also afraid of kittens? No one is ever scared of me. Everyone constantly tells me that I look about as frightening as a baby rabbit. You're not just pulling my leg are you?" He shook his head, grinning as he replied, "No, he talked to me for an hour on how you warned him about things and then he gave me a theory about how you were connected to the mafia." A small laugh escaped and his smile grew a small amount. "The most dangerous thing I've ever done is...well, maybe it's not a good idea to recount the past. I've done a fair amount of stupid things before that could be considered a tad too reckless to be sane."

He looked at me, contemplative for a second, and then shook his head ever so slightly. "You're a walking contradiction aren't you?" Was his query as I walked towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water too. I figured since I had been the one to persuade Ashley to write the letter to begin with, the leprechaun at least owed me a bottle of water. "You're one to talk, Payne. Oh wait, that's right, you don't have any room to talk about someone being a contradiction." I opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle and closed the door as he made an offended noise and said, "What on earth are you talking about?" I rolled my eyes and opened the bottle, taking a longer draft of it than necessary and took my time closing it. When I turned around and saw his expression, though, I realized he genuinely wanted a response; the question hadn't been rhetorical.

Huh. I hadn't realized the fanfictions were right about him being clueless. How sweet.

I rolled my eyes again, setting the bottle on the counter and facing him. I had his full attention and by the end of my argument he would probably disagree. But then and again, that was his opinion and what I was about to say was mine. So, I told him: "Okay, I assume you do actually own working mirrors not the fun ones like they have at carnivals? So you can see that you're among the more attractive percentage of males. You're not blind and you obviously take pride in your appearance or you wouldn't work to keep yourself looking like this. You're clearly attractive and yet you're still able to pull off the same amount of innocence as a three year old eating dirt and not knowing that it's bad for him. If there is anyone in this room who is a walking contradiction and has the least right to talk about being one, it's you."

His lips were pressed into a thin line and he shuffled his feet, looking at the floor with one hip propped against the counter and his arms crossed over his chest. If I had to put a name to the emotion on his face, I would have to say either he was fighting laughter or embarrassed. Possibly both, given the torn appearance of his expression. "I don't know whether to thank you or be offended," was the honest response he settled on eventually and I could feel the intense amusement I felt softening into a small smile that curved the edges of my mouth upwards. His eyes flitted down, lingering for a fraction of a second too long before they met mine again.

"Just take it as a compliment," I suggested, opening the water bottle to take another sip. I sat the bottle in the counter and kept he lid, rolling it between the fingers on my right hand. Silence pervaded the space between us for a moment and then he let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing as he said, "Well, I can see that even if things do get uncomfortable between them, they have you here. I had come to check on Niall and make sure everything was okay with him and...Ashley, isn't it?" I nodded and he held out a hand for me to shake. I took it, squeezing his hand in return and then he let go, stepping back with his water bottle in hand. "I have to go, but Harry should be by later and you can talk to him about arranging everything for the party. I'll see you around?"

The last sentence sounded more like a question than a statement so I smiled and said, "Yeah. I'll see you around Liam. It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise," he smiled and then gave a small wave as he exited the kitchen and headed for the door. I waited until I heard a vehicle start and pull out of the drive before I grabbed my water bottle and sat at the table in the kitchen and wondered:

What in the hell had just happened?

It took me a minute to gain my composure to the point where I could go into the living room again and face Ashley and Niall.

...who apparently had not missed me at all.

They were sitting closer than before, almost touching but not quite, and Niall looked like he had been told that it wasn't actually a crime to have a snack before supper like a cookie or something equally as cheesy that would have made a look like that appear on his face. I didn't bother asking what they were talking about-I had been gone too long to have any clue or interest in what they were talking about. I took a seat on the cushion next to Ashley, noting how comfortable she had become in just a few short , I should have expected it after the way she had followed him for the past few years and knew everything about him. He was someone she knew, in essence, so she would logically be comfortable around him after talking to him.

I was just glad that he had been a good person-a better person than I had hoped because he had wanted to meet her in person and get to know her beyond the letter, making her happier than I had ever seen her. So I stayed quiet and sat down, not speaking a word in fear it would detract from the closeness they had gained. It only took a couple of minutes for Ashley to notice me sitting beside her and playing on my phone (there were several apps on there that I found addictive and could have easily sat there for a long time, not saying anything). When she turned her head, really focusing on me, her eyes narrowed. I glanced up, arching an eyebrow in silent inquiry and she rolled her eyes, knowing that there was a difference between being quiet because that was how I was and being deliberately quiet so I wouldn't disrupt anything. I didn't bother wondering how she knew the difference between the two; she just did.

She nudged my shoulder with hers and she gave me a small smile as Niall spoke up, saying, "So, would you two have anything against meeting the other guys in the band?" I already have, I thought as I closed one of the games on my phone and went to the home screen where a picture of the old pecan tree and the pond beyond it in the summer time was my background. I didn't voice the thought, however because I knew as soon as I did that Ashley would think that I needed a therapy session to recuperate from the mental trauma. A small smile curved Ashly's lips as she nodded and responded, "We would love to meet everyone else." Well, at least she was sure of it.


End file.
